Matryoshka Doll
by Death-God-777
Summary: Pavel Chekov had always worn long sleeves, just like he had always drawn lines on the inside of his arms with his pointer fingers. Always had, always would, was the assumption that everyone had made. Until the truth turns out to be something more sinister. Warning: contains cutting.
1. Through the Rise and Fall

_A/N: first time delving into the Star Trek fandom so thought I might as well give it a go. Trigger warning: contains cutting._

* * *

Pavel Chekov had always worn long sleeves, just like he had always drawn lines on the inside of his arms with his pointer fingers. Always had, always would, was the assumption that everyone had made. Be it summer or winter, desert or ice planet, San Francisco or Moscow, the long sleeved shirts were always there. It was just one of the Russian whiz-kid's little things, like Sulu and his plants, or McCoy and his whiskey.

Perhaps that was why Jim had never questioned it. Perhaps that was why no one had ever questioned it.

Not until he saw _them_.

And then he had had every damn question in the world.

* * *

"God dammit Jim! Why did you-"

"Doctor, I am fine. I did-"

"Oh like you knew any more than I did! Kid's a freakin-"

"Captain, I-"

"_Ensign."_

The sharpness of that sentence seemed to take everyone by surprise, the med bay suddenly going deathly silent. Chekov seemed to shrink where he was sitting on the bio-bed under the weight of Jim's glare and his eyes dropped to his lap despondently.

"You don't say a word until I'm finished talking with Dr. McCoy, do you understand me?"

"Oh come on Jim, he's-" "Yes Captain."

The hollowness of Chekov's reply nearly made Jim apologise, _nearly_. But he was angry right now, angry and also incredibly worried. And, to be fair, who wouldn't be? Who wouldn't be worried after having your chief navigator approach your chair, hand you a PADD, and then accidentally have his sleeve slip up to reveal _dozens_ of cuts and scars? And it was worse when you discovered that those marks went up _both_ arms from wrist to elbow, not to mention that some of them were very, very recent.

When Jim had seen the marks he'd frozen and it had taken a moment for Chekov to notice something was wrong and stop his hundred-mile-an-hour explanation. When he had realised exactly what the problem was, he'd made to hastily back away but Kirk had grabbed him by the wrist and all but yanked him forward, pushing both sleeves up before dragging him to the turbo lift, a "Spock, take the comm!" being thrown over his shoulder.

Which had led them to where they were now: Jim and McCoy staring down at a very frightened and miserable looking Chekov.

"Chekov." Jim sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kid, you know I can't hide this."

"No!" Chekov's eyes were wide with horror. "Captain, please! You do not need to report this! I am fine, I swear!"

"The hell you are," McCoy snapped before stepping forward and carefully lifting up one of Pavel's arms, inspecting it closely. When he next spoke, his voice was soft. "Jim only wants to help you, as do I. So you can tell us kid, you can tell us what's wrong."

For his part, the kid just shook his head. "Nothing is wrong. There is nothing wrong with me. I am-"

"_Chekov_." There was no kindness in the doctor's tone now. "Some of these are so deep it's a miracle you're even alive! So don't think you can get away with saying it's nothing."

Jim placed a hand on Chekov's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "Pavel, I just wanna know that my crew is okay. If they're not, I need to know why. So I can _fix_ it."

If anything, Chekov seemed to wilt even more. "Everything is fine."

As Jim watched, the young Russian started up that little habit he'd always had, the one where he traced those lines on his arms. Now though, with his gold sleeves pushed up above his elbows, Jim could see that they weren't imaginary lines he was drawing. No, it was something far worse. The damn kid had _memorised_ every one of his scars, could trace them without thought.

"Captain." The boy's voice was barely a whisper. "I…I did not do this."

"You gotta be kidding me," Jim groaned, eyes sinking shut. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I did not do this."

"If you didn't, then who did?"

Chekov's eyes flew to Bones, looking almost scared, bottom lip between his teeth. "…no one. It was just-"

"Don't you dare say just an accident." Jim's threat came hard and fast.

The boy's mouth snapped shut and though he stiffened, he made no protest when Jim sat himself in front of him and took hold of one of his arms. "Pavel," Jim whispered, tracing the lines for himself. "No matter what this is…no matter how crazy you think it is…you can tell Doctor McCoy and I."

"Jim."

"I promise we won't judge you."

"_Jim."_

"We're your friends Chekov and we want to-"

"Dammit Jim, stop!"

The order made him snap his head up to look at Bones but his friend was focused completely on their charge. Turning back round, Jim's breath caught when he saw Chekov staring at him hollowly, shoulders shaking and eyes glistening with tears. Their gazes connected for only a second before Chekov was on his feet and running.

"I'm sorry!" was the last thing Jim and Bones heard as the med bay door slid shut. Bones raised one eyebrow.

"Now what the hell was that all about?"

* * *

"_Shit. Shit, shit, shit!" _

_The words came out of his mouth on repeat as he hastily tried to staunch the bleeding. Risking a glance at the sink, Chekov felt light-headed when he saw the amount of blood there…although perhaps that was what was causing the light-headedness. Pulling the washcloth off his arm, the fifteen-year-old swore when he saw exactly how deep some of those cuts were, two in particular._

_Knowing he had no choice, Pavel activated the lock on his washroom door before opening one of the drawers and pulling out a med-kit. Fossicking through, it was easy enough to locate his needle and thread, items he'd become familiar with over the past few months. Ignoring the blood that continually slicked up his hands, he managed to slip the thread through the hole on only his second attempt. Scrubbing his forearm with disinfectant – which hurt too, he might add! – he bit his lip before slipping the needle into his skin. _

_The word that came out his mouth was not something Pavel was proud of and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to prevent further outbursts._

_After that there was silence in the washroom until finally, finally, he'd managed to sew up the worst of his cuts. Upon inspection he found the others to have stopped bleeding already and he nodded with satisfaction. Well, that was one good thing, if nothing else. Reaching back into the med-kit, Chekov pulled out a half-used roll of bandages. The sooner he had this arm patched up, the sooner he would be able to get to dinner!_

* * *

"Chekov! Pavel, you in there man?"

The calling and its accompanied knocking forced Pavel out of sleep and he found himself in his quarters, no bandages around his arms, no blood ingrained into the skin of his fingers.

"Pavel!"

Hikaru.

"Coming!" Pavel called hastily, nearly tripping as he attempted to get out of bed. He fumbled for a pair of sweatpants, pulling them on before quickly slipping his standard black shirt over his head, tugging the sleeves over his wrists in what was an unconscious gesture.

He opened the door to his quarters and smiled at Hikaru. "Hey," he greeted easily. "I did not realise I had fallen asleep. It is time for dinner, yes?"

Hikaru gave a short laugh. "Dude, you missed dinner by…try, two hours."

Pavel's eyes widened and he glanced at his chrono in shock. He groaned upon seeing the time. "Oh, that is just not fair!"

"We _can_ grab something now if you-"

"No, it is bad to eat so soon before we must go to sleep!"

Hikaru laughed at his logic before entering the room, seeing as how it was obvious they weren't intending to leave. Pavel shut the door after him, waiting to see where Hikaru would sit before taking a seat of his own. Ever since the Narada incident they had had adjacent quarters and it was quite common for one to be found in the others. They knew each other's rules – Pavel _never_ touched Hikaru's plants, no matter how bright or intriguing, and Hikaru always made sure to return Pavel's books to _exactly_ where he had found them – and they rarely argued at the other's presence, announced or otherwise.

"Pavel?"

Chekov blushed upon seeing Hikaru's eyes on his face. "Sorry," he said, "I was just thinking."

"What were you thinking about?"

His mouth was already open to answer when Chekov suddenly noticed the odd undertone in that question. A dropping sensation filled his guts and he sighed, picking at the arm of his chair absently.

"The Captain spoke to you." It wasn't a question, it was a fact. "He told you about…" he gestured at his arms weakly.

"Yeah," Hikaru answered, no shame or hesitance at all. "So-"

"I was not thinking suicidal thoughts."

It was as though the room had instantly frozen over. Hikaru had never heard such iciness in Pavel's voice and when their eyes met, the seventeen-year-old's were hard and unrelenting. He crossed his arms and glared at Hikaru angrily.

"You have come to ask if I am okay and I am." Pavel turned to stare at the wall. "I think you should leave now, Hikaru."

"You're kidding, right?" The pilot was blustering. Never had Pavel gotten angry at him, let alone kick him out of his room. "You're not being serious."

Pavel shrugged stiffly. "I thought you were my friend. I thought you trusted me. I told the Captain I did not do this and he did not believe me. And from your question, I know you do not either. So now I do not know if we are friends or not."

"Hey, that's not-"

"_So_," he repeated firmly, "I think you should leave, _sir_."

Hikaru sat there in shock, mouth hanging open. He hadn't known what to expect when Kirk had pulled him aside after their shift and explained the situation to him, but this hadn't been it. Like he'd told Kirk, he knew Pavel. They'd spent hours together between shifts, they went to the gym together, hell, Hikaru had even taken Pavel to meet his family last time they'd been on shore-leave in San Francisco. And like Sulu had told Kirk, Pavel _wouldn't_ do this.

And according to Chekov, he _hadn't_ done it either.

And yet there was evidence that he _had_.

Unless…

Feeling the cool Russian gaze that was still upon him, Hikaru reluctantly got to his feet. He went to make for the door before suddenly changing his mind, stepping towards Pavel instead. His friend eyed him defiantly but there was something underneath, something that nearly resembled desperation.

Licking his lips, knowing the question could potentially ruin everything, he plunged in. "Can I see them?"

Eyes sliding to the floor, Pavel pulled up his sleeve and held out his arm. His voice was leaden with resignation. "What is there to-"

"Other arm."

Pavel blinked twice. "What?"

"Other arm," Hikaru ordered, batting away the one being offered to him.

Chekov thoughtlessly did what he'd asked, seemingly too bewildered to object. Taking the right arm and studying it intently, Hikaru frowned before glancing at Pavel's left hand.

"You're not _that_ ambidextrous."

And what that, he turned and left the room.

* * *

_Pavel sprinted across the campus as fast as he could. Being a runner gave him many advantages, as did his young age but it did little when one of his assailants suddenly appeared in front of him. The sixteen-year-old didn't have time to so much as stop before the older cadet had a grip around his neck and slammed him into the ground. Pavel felt the air leave his lungs, eyes stinging at the pain that hammered through his chest._

"_Please," he panted, desperately trying to get his breath back. "Please, don't…I…please…"_

"_You got him Simpson?"_

_The voice came from behind them and the man above Pavel smiled. "I got him Fraser. He's not going anywhere."_

_Chekov would have attempted to prove him wrong, but he was finding it difficult enough to breathe, let alone move. Cadet Fraser laughed as he joined them, smiling down at Pavel with that smile that made his heart stop. Seeing the fear in his eyes, the older cadet laughed again._

"_You know what I'm going to do, don't you? And you know exactly why we're doing it."_

"_No!" Pavel managed to gasp. "I do not know why! I did…only pass test!"_

_Fraser's eyes darkened and then he was dropping to his knees, Pavel crying out when one of those knees pinned his arm to the ground at an awkward angle. His sleeve was yanked up and his eyes slunk shut, trying to hide tears, when he felt that cold metal against his skin._

"_You broke the curve. Again!"_

_The snarl was accompanied by a slash of the knife and Chekov muffled a cry. He could already feel the blood sliding down his arm, whimpering when two more cuts followed the first one. _

"_Please," he begged. "Please! Do not to this! I am sorry!"_

_He felt the knife dig in deeper this time, a hand clamping over his mouth to keep him quiet and then all the pressure was gone. Simpson's hand mercifully removed itself from his neck, grabbing his collar instead and yanking him into a sitting position. Dark eyes bored into his, the firmest warning there._

"_You keep being sorry," Simpson advised, "You keep being sorry and you keep it to yourself." He pushed up Pavel's sleeve to admire their handiwork on his other arm. "After all, Starfleet may love a little genius, but a mentally unstable one…well…"_

_With that, Simpson got to his feet, shoving Chekov's head down roughly as he did so. He and his friends walked off and Chekov carefully refused to move until he could no longer see them from where he was watching from underneath his dark lashes. When they were gone, and he'd waited a few more minutes for good measure, Chekov mustered his courage and looked down at his left arm fearfully. He sighed in relief when he saw the cuts. Deep, but not life-threateningly so. Finally, a good day._

* * *

Apparently, according to Terran science, sleeping on problems made them easier to solve in the morning. Well, Pavel Chekov would like to have had a word to those scientists because he had woken up, if anything, even more confused. He did not know what he should say to Captain Kirk. "Oh yes, I am letting myself be picked on and never thought to stand up for myself"? Yes, that was a good one. That would be why he got to wear the special Command yellow, right? No, he could not say that, but he could say he had done it either because that was a lie, not to mention a one way trip to the psychiatrist.

And then there was Sulu.

He still had not managed to crack what Hikaru had meant but he had a suspicion and he desperately hoped it was wrong. But he doubted that he was. Hikaru was smart. If he thought something was true, it generally was. And Pavel was terrified of what Hikaru thought about him and his…situation.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, Pavel ceased his endless jogging of the lower Enterprise decks. It would soon be time for the Alpha shift team to be waking up and, having skipped dinner the night before, he was very much looking to eating with Sulu…

He grimaced. If Hikaru would eat with him after last night, that was.

Deciding he'd cross that bridge when he'd come to it – an interesting metaphor he'd overheard from Dr McCoy once – Chekov headed for the turbolift. He didn't even get a chance to hit the button to call the lift before a hand was clamping down on his shoulder, wrenching him around. He paled at who he saw behind him. The grip on his shoulder tightened excruciatingly.

"So whiz-kid, wanna tell me what happened in the med-bay yesterday?"

* * *

Sulu toyed with his breakfast aimlessly. His fork picked at his food but it never came anywhere near his mouth. Hikaru's despondent gaze kept moving between his plate – which had never looked so uninviting in his life – and the door to the food hall. Officer after officer, ensign after lieutenant, blue and red and yellow, all drifted in and out, but never once was the one he was looking for there.

He'd gone to ask Pavel to join him for breakfast first thing but he'd found the ensign's room empty – they'd exchanged door codes long ago. Hikaru had been comforted by the fact that Pavel's running shoes were missing from their customary spot by the door though, and had assumed that his friend would come to eat when he had finished his morning exercise routine. But, Hikaru thought, frowning as he read the time, he should have been here by now. Time to the start of Alpha shift was growing ever shorter and, seriously, where the hell was Pavel?

Abandoning his meal, Hikaru left the hall, heading back to his quarters to grab his yellow shirt and to check Pavel's once more. He had only gotten halfway there though when an odd feeling of dread filled him. He didn't know where the feeling came from and he so very nearly ignored it but he just, he _couldn't_.

"_Dammit_."

Stomping back to the console behind him, Hikaru gazed at the screen before saying, "Locate Ensign Chekov."

There was a beat before, "Ensign Chekov is on Deck 14."

Hikaru froze for a single second before tearing off down the hallway, startling several other crew-members. He and Chekov never went down that deep to jog. It was Deck 9, always Deck 9. There was absolutely no reason at all that Chekov should be on Deck 14…And that scared him to hell.

He couldn't even remember hopping in the turbolift, let alone keying in which floor he wanted but he must have done because he was running through the lower deck within minutes, always heading towards that location he had seen on the viewscreen. A left here. A right there. Pass that hallway. Another right and then…

Blood.

That was the first thing he saw; Pavel, arms hugged tightly to his chest, blood pouring down them, staining his shirt, staining the floor.

And over him, towering and apparently deciding his job was done, was Lieutenant Fraser. Hikaru was pretty sure the man had had no idea what had hit him. Sulu'd back-fisted the man's head twice before he'd so much as _seen_ him and he was kicking the man's legs out just as Fraser was regaining his bearings. A knife slipped from his grip and Hikaru caught it by the tips of his fingers just as he slammed the other man into the deck. A well-placed, and probably harder than necessary but damned it wasn't deserved!, kick to Fraser's shoulder had said joint dislocating and he howled in pain. Placing a restraining foot on the other arm and maintaining his grip on the knife, Hikaru spared Pavel a look, blanching at what he saw.

His communicator was in his hand before he knew it, already shouting, _"McCoy to Deck 14 NOW!"_

* * *

_A/N: end chapter one. I know it's mean but I should have the next chapter up within a day or two. This fic's only going to be two chapters so have no fear, it will all be resolved then. Reviews are nice too, if you are that way inclined. :)_

_~Neilsy_


	2. We Discover Who We Are

_A/N: hey, just a massive shout-out to everyone who paid this story some attention; I was not expecting the response I got at all. Thank you all!_

* * *

If he was honest, there was plenty of paperwork sitting behind him that he should have been doing, but Bones wasn't sparing it a thought. His mind had been preoccupied ever since the bizarre incident of Pavel Chekov that he'd witnessed yesterday. After that, he had found it hard to concentrate on anything. The lies the kid had tried to feed them were weak, no hint of back-story or logic, just firm denial…Well to be honest, he'd barely given them _that_.

And in his experience, that meant something was being hidden.

Now he was no mind-reader, but being a seventeen-year-old genius and head navigator of Starfleet's flagship was a match made in hell and he was willing to bet his worth that there was someone out there, someone bigger and stronger, that wasn't too happy with the situation. Hopefully that someone hadn't been handling the situation the way he thought.

The opening of his door was a relief, even if the fact that there was no knock prior did annoy him immensely.

"Dammit Jim, some courtesy even now and then wouldn't go astray!"

For his part, his friend simply waved a hand. "Whatever Bones, you love me anyway. So," he continued, pulling over the closest chair and dropping into it backwards, "You wanna tell me what this is about? I mean, it's not every day you call me down here first thing."

There was a pause and Jim's eyes widened as he simultaneously leant back as far as his spine would allow.

"Wait, you're not here to hypospray my ass, are you?"

For a moment, Bones almost wished he was. But instead, he shook his head. "No, 'fraid not. I wanna talk some more about our friend Chekov."

Jim's eyes darkened, not in anger, but _concern_. "What about him?"

The doctor ran a hand over his face. "I'm thinking the kid may not have been lying when he said he didn't do this to himself."

"What? But he-"

"I reckon he was forced into it," Bones continued. "He's not the type to go through a mental breakdown or what have you." He leant closer to his captain. "I think there's something else going on underneath. I think he's getting…bothered, shall I say?, by some other members of the crew."

Now there was anger in Jim's eyes. _"Who?"_

"Well, if I knew that-"

His communicator buzzing cut him off and Bones flipped it open without thought. Consequently, both he and Kirk jumped in fright when a panicked shout came their way.

"_McCoy to Deck 14 NOW!"_

McCoy swore as he recognised Sulu's voice, already on his feet. "Mr Sulu? Mr Sulu report!"

The communicator remained dead though and that was what had Jim sprinting away, Bones hot on his heels. If Sulu was so concerned that he couldn't even keep the damn line open…Bones swallowed thickly. He didn't want to think of what he was going to find. It wasn't until they reached the turbolift that Jim broke the silence.

"Do you think it's Chekov?" his voice was barely a whisper.

"The hell if I know," Bones shot back, but there was that strained '_yes'_ behind his words.

Reaching Deck 14, Jim was taking off in a random direction before Leonard could question him and while he was tempted to argue, Jim's instincts hadn't been wrong yet. They ran through one corridor, then another, then two more turns and Bones was on the verge of ordering Jim to stop so they could use the computer to help them, when a voice rasped out:

"_Help me!"_

Heads whipping around, Kirk went white while Bones became a flurry of movement. A red shirt was lying on the floor, eyes flying between Hikaru and the recently arrived Captain. Hikaru was kneeling on the floor, glaring at aforementioned crewmember and in his arms…in his arms was Ensign Chekov. The boy was trembling and white, oh so white, except for his arms, which were dyed a deep scarlet. His eyes were shut and no amount of coaxing and shaking on Bones' behalf could get him to open them.

"Mr Sulu, what the hell happened?"

Sulu's eyes finally broke away from the lieutenant on the floor and instead turned to the boy in his lap. "I…I don't know…I-I just…I found him like this."

Stammering. Confusion. Diagnosis: shock.

Bones grimaced, not having time to deal with that now. His tricorder was already scanning over Chekov's arms, detecting what it could beneath all that blood. "Why don't you start by telling us why Lieutenant Fraser's lying on the ground with what appears to be a dislocated shoulder?"

He was maybe expecting a blush, but all he got was a black scowl. "He did this." Sulu's voice was a _growl_. "He did this and he's been doing it all along. Pavel was missing, I tracked him here. And when I arrived…"

Both Hikaru and Leonard lost their respective trains of thought when a cry of pain came from beside them. The doctor's _'JIM!_' was ignored as Kirk pinned the red shirted lieutenant to the wall. His blue eyes were burning with fury and Bones swore he had never seen Kirk as angry as he was in that one moment.

"You have just _attempted murder_!" Kirk's voice was like thunder. "You _never_ hurt my crew and so help me I would kill you where you stand but the _only_ reason I am letting you live is because I know Mr Chekov would not want your death on his head. I will make sure no mercy is shown to you and- _hell_!, I might even maroon next time we pass a Class M planet."

The hallway was deathly silent as Jim pulled back, running a hand across his face before pulling his communicator out. "Kirk here, security to my location."

"_Aye Captain."_

Bones looked up from where he was just finishing bandaging one of Chekov's arms, giving Jim a single second of his time to nod with pride and respect, showing him he agreed with the decision, before starting on the other arm. He wanted to limit the flow of blood as much as possible before moving the kid. He couldn't say for sure how much blood had already been lost, but it was well beyond what he was comfortable with and every drop now had to be treated as precious.

…And then the kid stopped breathing.

"_SHIT!"_

Jim dropped Fraser without hesitation and flew over and Sulu was watching him with wide eyes. "Sulu grab him now! We don't have time to waste. Jim, get us a gurney now. When I'm coming out of that turbolift I want an entire med-bay's worth of supplies, do you hear me?"

Both officers nodded, flying into action. Sulu slipped one arm around Chekov's knees, keeping the other around his shoulders and then hoisting him into his arms as he stood. Jim was rapidly speaking into his communicator, waving absently behind him to the security personnel that had just arrived. Bones kept step with Sulu, swearing at and encouraging the kid in his arms the entire way, providing what little care he could with what little he had. All he could do now was hope the tiny Ensign had it in him to live.

* * *

Sulu didn't sit on the floor. He wasn't one of those people. He could never just sit on the floor, no matter how clean or comfortable it was. If he was ever going to sit, it would be in a chair, thank you very much. Sulu did _not_ sit on the floor…Which was why, when Kirk found him sitting on the floor outside the med-bay, he sat down next to him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Hikaru?"

It was the use of his first name that did it. If he'd been addressed as 'Lieutenant' or 'Sulu', he might have been able to hold it together. But it hadn't been and so his wall shattered, everything tumbling out even as he tried to rein it in to only quiet sobs.

"Hikaru…"

"Two days." Frightened brown eyes met his. "_Two days_ Kirk-"

"Jim."

"Jim…Two days and nothing! He hasn't even moved, sir! He just…I didn't even get to say I understood, that I didn't blame him, that it wasn't his fault, that…that I was sorry I even thought…"

Jim nodded – what else could he do? – and moved that hand to the other shoulder so that it became a one-armed hug. He didn't say it would be alright, because heaven knew that while he wanted to believe it, he didn't know for sure. He just tightened his grip and held on.

"Jim."

The quiet call came from his right and Kirk turned his head to find Bones standing in the med-bay doorway. The doctor's eyes softened at the sight of their helmsman but there was something in his expression that made Kirk dare to hope.

"Is he…?" he mouthed. Bones nodded and Kirk's face split into a grin. He then indicated towards Sulu with a nod of his head.

"Mr Sulu." The young man snapped to attention, slightly disorientated but desperate to find that voice, the voice that held everything for him. "I think there's someone that wants to see you."

The pilot's mouth opened in shock and then he was scrambling to his feet, tripping over Kirk's boots as he ran into the med-bay. It only took him a second to find him. Tucked into a corner so curious crew-members couldn't just peer in and get information was Pavel, the Russian looking weary despite his only just waking up. But the smile he gave upon seeing Hikaru more than made up for it. He reached out a hand before starting to take it back, seemingly unsure and that was the moment that Hikaru ran to him. He grabbed the hand and nearly crushed it in his own, refusing to let go.

"Damn Pavel," he whispered, hating how his voice shook. "I was so scared. I didn't…I couldn't…You're okay now, right?"

His friend smiled sadly. "Hikaru, please don't cry. I am sorry. Sorry I did not tell you the truth and that it got me so hurt. I'm sorry. But Doctor McCoy has made me all better now. You will see. I am okay."

Hikaru let his hands slide to Pavel's wrists, running over the cuts that were no longer there, having been fixed with a dermal regenerator. The wounds that Pavel had stitched up himself still left scars, they were too old for anything to be done about, but the newest ones had been erased, gone from his skin as though they had never happened. Hikaru thumbed the scars before taking Pavel's hands in his once more.

"I'm your best friend," he said quietly. "If I didn't say so before, I want you to know now, that you can tell me anything, _anything_. Don't hide from me again, don't be scared."

The grip on his hands tightened. "I won't. I won't, I won't. I won't."

* * *

"Sweet as that may be," Bones muttered from where he was standing with his own respective best friend, "It's still disgusting that the kid had to go through that in the first place. Fifteen years old and stitching himself together! Could've bled out several times! Damn the kid's stupid pride!"

Jim gave a tight smile, clapping Bones' shoulder. "We all have own downfalls. Besides," he continued, locking eyes with Pavel and sending the kid a smile, watching the kid blush and nod in return. "I think he's learnt his lesson this time."

And with that, he went and sat on his Ensign's bed, ruffling his hair playfully.

Because Jim knew, through the rising and falling apart, you discover who you are.

* * *

_A/N: so, shorter than chapter 1 but it just turned out that way and felt right. I didn't want to force things, so hopefully you still like it. Hope you enjoyed reading this and thanks for all the kindness!_

_~Neilsy_


End file.
